by Sarah Lark
Now Doug tortured himself with reproach, as he rode the two miles to the Hollisters. He should have known. He shouldn’t have sent a girl there at all, especially one as extremely shy and virtuous as Alima. A bolder little thing would have fended off the lord more cleverly, or even indulged him. Then, at the worst, Doug would have had to deal with a little bastard that had the features of his neighbor.
When Doug slowed his horse in front of the Hollisters’ farmhouse, the doctor’s carriage was already there from Kingston. Not a good sign, especially since Dr. Walton wasn’t exactly at the top of his profession. The doctor was happy to indulge in the rum and by afternoon he was usually barely even responsive. Even now, he didn’t seem to necessarily be doing any good for his patient. Lord Hollister’s cries of pain could be heard throughout the house. When Doug knocked, a frightened manservant let him in. Just behind him was Lady Hollister.
“Mr. Fortnam! You dare to come here!” Lady Hollister said, furiously. She looked pale, even though she wasn’t wearing makeup. Her hair hung tangled around her head and she was rather bleary eyed. “What kind of monster did you send into our house? The girl … she will hang, you can be sure of that. And that’s still too good for her! If it were up to me, she would have to burn! What she did to my husband! Just listen — that’s how it was the entire night! He was in terrible pain. He is—” She sobbed.
“I told you to look after the girl.” Doug was determined to defend his slave. “She happens to be very shy. Your husband must have scared her.”
“Shy? Don’t make me laugh! She fluttered her eyes at him, that’s for sure! Otherwise he would have never—”
Doug wondered if Lady Hollister really never looked at her house servants’ faces.
“He says she seduced him. And then … Oh, my poor husband, my poor Ronald…” she let out more sobs. Doug didn’t know what he should say, but he was primarily interested in how Hollister was doing. At the least, his voice still sounded rather strong. However, it was certainly not a good idea to try and visit him. As he stood there, the doctor came down the stairs. He was also rather pale, as though he had already opened his flask to first take a few sips.
“How is he?” Doug asked. “I heard about the matter and, of course, it’s extremely embarrassing for me too—”
Dr. Walton nodded seriously. “A gruesome story,” he said. “Lord Hollister … well, even if he survives the thing … he will never be what he was.”
The lady sobbed.
“Is his life in danger?” Doug asked, concerned.
The doctor shrugged. “With such a large burn — and moreover, in such a … hmm … sensitive part of the body … one must be prepared for anything, Mr. Fortnam. I have given him a compress and we will see how it develops. It is very serious, milady, as sorry as I am. Have they caught the nigger whore?”
Doug bit his tongue. “The girl—” he began.
“The governor will be notified today!” the lady said, eyes narrowed. “Whereas Mr. Fortnam does not appear to want to be very helpful. Or have you already detained the girl, Fortnam?”
Doug shook his head. “I heard about the matter this morning from my stable master,” he claimed. “You know how these things spread. The blacks always know everything before us. But the girl did not arrive. The parents were worried, so they turned to the—”
“The redcoats will find her,” Dr. Walton said reassuringly to the lady. “And bring her to justice. It’s seventy lashes for such a thing, if I’m not mistaken. She won’t survive it.”
The physician took his tricorne under his arm and nodded to Doug and the lady as he made his way out. “I will return tomorrow. Give your husband rum and laudanum. It will ease the pain a bit.”
Dr. Walton left the house and Doug followed him. However, Lady Hollister was not finished with him.
“You will deliver the slave, of course, if she flees to you,” Lady Hollister said sternly before letting him through the door.
Doug nodded. “Of course,” he replied stiffly.
Doug Fortnam had Amigo gallop off immediately and rode as fast as possible back to Cascarilla Gardens. Kwadwo should hitch up the carriage and drive to Kingston — according to the plan, the three people would be hidden in his delivery cart. Alima’s family had to flee as fast as possible.
CHAPTER 3
“No, Jefe, you have to go home now. Your mama’s waiting for you. And if you ask Granny nicely, she’ll surely tell you a story about Africa.”
Nora picked up the protesting half-brother of her daughter Dede and put him into Maria’s arms.
“Please take him with you into the village, Maria, otherwise I’ll get in trouble with Máanu. She’s already made it clear that I let him stay here too much.”
Three-year-old Dede would accompany her mother to the field like almost all of the other small children on the settlement. Jefe, who was only a little younger, could have stayed with Máanu, as Granny Nanny didn’t mind if he played in her hut while Máanu worked. Officially, she served as a sort of secretary, and the queen did consult her about negotiations with distributors and representatives of her brothers. The women in Nanny Town, however, would chuckle when they called her house slave or maid. Máanu cooked and cleaned for Nanny and Quao, she straightened Nanny’s dresses, and helped her mix her medicines. Essentially, she did the same for the Maroon queen as she had previously done for Nora — and again, without pay, unless you counted her raised status in the village. But she had that just by being Akwasi’s main wife.
Akwasi’s reading and writing skills had become increasingly important for Granny and her brother. He traveled back and forth between Nanny Town, Cudjoe Town, and Accompong’s settlement in the southwest. His little son Jefe was also privileged and Granny Nanny spoiled him a great deal. Jefe, however, didn’t care to play alone in her hut. Instead, he clung to the skirt of any woman going to work on the fields, and then joined Nora and little Dede. The children loved each other tenderly. Nora couldn’t believe how much the big, strong Jefe loved after his dainty, fairy-like sister. The boy picked her fruit, brought her colorful flowers, and even went to protect her against the other children when there were any squabbles.
Máanu was less enthusiastic about the close friendship between the half-siblings, but she listened to Nanny, who found it perfectly normal. In Africa, it was common for children to call all of their father’s wives, Mama. And if Jefe liked going to the field with Nora more than staying in the town with Máanu, then she saw no reason to object.
The little boy also was no bother to Nora. Like most midwives, Nora was proud of every child with whose birth she could help. Jefe’s was the first time she had been called for help in Nanny Town and, on top of that, it had also been a difficult birth. Ever since Nora had saved Máanu’s life, she was recognized as the healer and midwife throughout the settlement — Granny Nanny supported it as long as she didn’t perform any magic or undertake any other actions to somehow convert the Maroons. The queen held firm regarding the spiritual guidance of her people, as well as their orientation towards Africa. Nanny Town should function like an Ashanti village. She rejected everything that came from the English or English customs — she also tried to reduce trade with the whites to the basic necessities.
Nora knew that the original Maroons, and also some of the freed slaves, complained about it. Above all, the men didn’t like to weave and make pottery like their forefathers in Africa. They only saw themselves as hunters and warriors. They wouldn’t even work in the field, and the Maroon women who were free from birth sometimes grumbled about it.
“I cut sugar cane and nigger lies lazy in sun and keep watch!” Maria got straight to the point once during the hottest part of the year, when the women slumped down in the shade of a palm tree for lunch. “I can climb to the look-out just as well, look down, and blow the horn. But much stronger to chop with machete.”
“And the cloth that mine weaves is bad,” Elena added. With his new role as a craftsman, her husband was very unhappy
. “He hates that and much rather hunt. Was always hunter … well, sometimes stole a bit on plantations … but cannot weave. Says is women’s work.”
“Is women’s work,” agreed Millie, a freed house slave who struggled with fieldwork. “I good in weaving, good in sewing.”
The other women nodded. Any of them would have preferred a shady spot in front of the loom to harvesting the sugar cane. “If contracts signed and trading free, we buy cloth and sew dresses,” was the general opinion. Girls like Mansah also giggled and added, “buy silk and sew dresses like the fine white missis has!”
It would be difficult for Granny Nanny to maintain her little Africa in the Blue Mountains if the whites really lifted the trading bans.
Nora didn’t mind the fieldwork much. While clearing weeds and planting seeds, she gossiped with the other women, coerced the children into playfully helping, and also had frequent periods of being alone to let her thoughts wander. As her captivity in Nanny Town had already lasted five long years, she had more or less resigned herself to it. She and Máanu may not have become friends after she helped Jefe into the world, but at least there was a sort of truce. Nora had even somewhat come to terms with Akwasi. He divided his “affections” between both women, as the law required of him. However, much to her chagrin, he clearly preferred Nora. She was now convinced that her kidnapping was not just about taking a woman away from Doug Fortnam. Perhaps that momentary weakness after the Obeah ceremony hadn’t been an accident, but possibly Akwasi had already loved Nora at the time. Or at least coveted her.
Nora could deal with this strange love better than with the hatred and anger that had defined the first months of their relationship. She still felt nothing for Akwasi and dreaded the nights with him, but it was not quite as bad as it had been in the beginning, and sometimes, there was even a sort of conversation between them. Nora learned a lot about the negotiations between the governor and the Windward Maroons. The representative of the Crown, Governor Edward Trelawny, and his military leader, Colonel Guthrie, had probably realized that there were free blacks in Jamaica and always would be. It was much more reasonable to recognize their territory as an independent colony and to guarantee their position as citizens rather than keep fighting. The essentials of the agreement were already clear: the governor would give up his claim to the Maroon’s land and officially sign it over to them. Free trade would be permitted and the Maroons would be able to move through the white’s settlements without any trouble. In return, there were to be no further attacks on the plantations and no more slaves would be freed. The specific details of the last point, however, were still controversial and the debate raged on fiercely. The governor insisted on a commitment by the Maroons to return the escaped slaves that had fled to them. Trelawney now also drew attention to the fact that such agreements had previously existed between the planters and the free blacks. Cudjoe and Accompong were willing to accept the contract, but Nanny fought it with all her might. She would have gladly agreed not to free any more slaves — it would no longer be an issue if they put an end to the raids. But to send back helpless people that had finally found a refuge after their desperate escape — Queen Nanny refused.
“Especially since the whites will still want more!” said Akwasi, who was completely on Nanny’s side. “Since we know the mountains so well, we could make a nice extra bit of money by hunting runaway slaves! They would pay a bounty for each one we return! It’s unimaginable that Cudjoe would approve of that!”
Nora raised her eyebrows. She still didn’t consider Nanny any sort of heroine, but she had nothing but contempt for Cudjoe. Of course, it might be that his community in Saint James Parish was just as well organized as Nanny Town, but ultimately its fame was founded on the extremely brutal raids in the surrounding area. Nowhere had the planters suffered as much from the Maroons as in the northwest — which in the last few years led to the construction of fully fledged private armies. Cudjoe’s attacks were noticeably less successful. He had been pushed back into the mountains and the land he controlled continued to grow smaller. Nora assumed that there was a reason for his sudden willingness to negotiate. There was no question that he would enthusiastically send patrols into the mountains to hunt down runaway slaves and return them for money. His forefathers in Africa had never done much else. Slave trade was considered an acceptable profession among the Ashanti.
For the time being, Nanny was not ready to give into his wishes, but in the long run it would come time to sign a contract, Akwasi was sure of it. Nora saw the day with grief, as it meant the final confirmation of her own slavery. She had long ago given up hope that anyone cared about her captivity. She would probably spend the rest of her life in her hut, working in the fields, and letting a man, whom she did not love, have his way with her.
Nora consoled herself with the fact that she shared this fate with thousands of women all over the world. African girls rarely selected their own husbands, and the cruel custom of circumcision also prevented them from feeling the pleasure of love. Whereas, love was what Nora had missed the most. She didn’t need the luxury of Cascarilla Gardens and her current life was not so very different from what she had dreamed of with Simon. Well, her hut was not by the sea, but in the mountains; nonetheless, it was warm and the area surrounding Nanny Town was as beautiful as a dream. In the past three years, Nora had been permitted to move around freely, and had enthusiastically explored the variety of plant life, the streams, and waterfalls, all of which were designed more playfully and appealingly by nature than any fountain in the English parks. She watched butterflies and birds with Dede and Jefe, each more colorful and delicate than the last. She collected flowers, leaves, and roots — as healing herbs, but also simply because they were beautiful. And, of course, she loved her daughter, who fit so perfectly in her surroundings.
Little Deirdre was graceful like an elf. When Nora put flowers in her hair, she looked like she’d jumped out of a fairy tale. Deirdre’s skin was more of a reddish brown than black, not much darker than Nora’s, but hers shimmered. She had also inherited Nora’s delicate bone structure. Akwasi’s traits were not noticeable in her face — while Jefe looked just like his father. Dede combined her black-and-white heritage into her own exotic look. Even her hair was an unusual mix: black and shiny like her father’s, but fine, and with large curls, like Nora’s. Nora was certain that her little girl would grow into an extraordinary beauty. It was a shame then that she would remain hidden in this remote settlement, married off to some warrior and condemned to till his fields.
But Nora didn’t want to think of that for the moment. She didn’t want to give up on herself or her daughter. The quieter her life was, the more frequently Nora found her way back to the world of daydreams. She imagined escaping with Deirdre and finding a happy future. When Dede was barely old enough to understand stories, Nora began to tell her fairy tales that she had made up herself. One day, as she described to the girl, a prince would come to Nanny Town and fall in love with Dede on first sight. He would take her away to an island on a far away sea, build her a house there, and love her for ever.
“And of course, everyone is free on the island. They don’t work on the land, but just eat what grows on the trees. And they are happy with what they have, so they don’t need to do any trading—”
“And what do they do all day?” Dede asked, chewing on a mango. She loved fresh fruit, and clearly wouldn’t mind doing away with beans and flat bread.
Nora laughed. “Oh, they make music and tell stories. They swim in the sea … one day, I must show you the sea, my darling, you won’t believe how big and beautiful it is! And when the moon reflects upon it …” Dede snuggled into her arms and let Nora’s words lull her.
“And sometimes the prince takes you on his ship; perhaps you might even sail to England and dance at the king’s ball!”
Dede smiled. She liked to dance.
While she described the future to Dede in vibrant colors, Nora also conjured up scenes from the past for he
rself. However, she spared herself the time with Doug Fortnam — it hurt too much to think about how greatly he had betrayed her. If she allowed her anger to run free, she sometimes even felt sympathy for Akwasi. Was there really nothing that Doug could have done to save his friend at the time? Or had he just talked himself into believing that, just as he had undoubtedly convinced himself that he couldn’t help Nora? Doug had to have survived the Maroon attack — Nora was sure that Akwasi would have bragged about his death if he had managed to get his hands on the missing white man. So, he must have also known that Nora was alive — and she knew that he did not lack the means to risk a rescue attempt. Doug had inherited Elias’s assets and the profitable plantation. He could have raised an entire army to storm Nanny Town! In any case, that’s what Nora would have done if she had known he were in captivity.
But Doug didn’t seem to care about her fate. Even now, she had to fight back tears whenever she allowed herself to dwell on it. It was better to just let it go and forget everything about Doug. His face, his powerful build, his dimpled smile, his bold way of riding, and his strong strokes while swimming, his embraces on the beach, his kisses … the last night at Cascarilla Gardens …
It was better that she summon Simon’s loyal spirit. Nora thought about their walks in the London parks, their dreams of the South Seas — and sometimes she brought him into her dull life in Nanny Town. It was easier when Akwasi was not with her — understandably, Simon’s spirit fled from his loud presence. But in the weeks that Akwasi was traveling in the Blue Mountains, or on the rare nights that he spent with Máanu, Nora dreamed of Simon by her side. She imagined that Dede was his daughter and that they were both watching her play. He would tell Nora how beautiful Dede was and how much she resembled her mother, and Nora would repeat the fairy tales that he had told her to the child. At night he lay beside her and she thought about his cautious, gentle hugs. Sometimes she could manage to conjure up the night with Doug, but put Simon in his place. Afterwards, she always felt a little bit guilty, as if she had been unfaithful to them both. But the dreams made her life more colorful and beautiful. There were days when Nora could almost describe herself as happy.
